For the want of a nail the shoe was lost
by LovesAngst
Summary: The title is part of an old saying referring to the potentially disastrous consequences of letting seemingly small responsibilities go. Humans are, and have always been the frailest of creatures, Merlin, despite his magic, is no exception.
1. Chapter 1

The title is an old saying referring to the potentially disastrous consequences of letting seemingly small responsibilities go. A reminder that humans are, and have always been the frailest of creatures.

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This is my first Merlin fanfiction, it's angst—that's all I write . Feedback would be very much appreciated! The chapters will be short, as is this little story that demanded to be written.

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It had started out as a fine fall morning in Camelot, sunny and warm, beautiful fall colours on the leaves. A perfect day for a hunt! Apparently though the gods disagreed with this plan as Arthur and his knights had not managed take one animal all day. Merlin, ever faithful, trudged behind them gamely with an unwieldy pack of supplies.

By early evening they turned back, the temperature was dropping steadily and a spot by the fire seemed much more appealing that tracking through the cold wet forest after non-existent quarry. Although the men were freezing by the time Camelot was in sight, that didn't stop them from having a spot of fun. The cold rain had turned to slush and the occasional snowball was lobbed back and forth as the men slipped and slid on their feet. Never at Arthur mind-you, everyone but Merlin knew better than to pelt the crown prince with a ball of ice, and Merlin was plenty busy just trying to keep his feet. Smiling at his motley crew, Arthur finally spotted something worth hunting, a bush bristling with fat pigeons. Just as Arthur held up his hand to get the attention on his troop, Merlin was pelted with a snowball and went down in a loud and clumsy heap! The birds were off in a heart beat.

'Merlin! Have I ever told you that you are the worst servant I've ever had?'

With his typical warm smile Merlin righted himself. 'Yes, I believe you have sire, but never hurts to hear it again.'

Arthur and Merlin arrived back at the prince's chambers to find that the fire had long since grown cold—the place was freezing!

'Cold as a witch's heart!' Arthur noted as he bundled himself in his warmest cloak.

'Merlin, catch' he called, as Merlin turned from his task at the hearth, a cloak dropped over his head. 'I see the cold hasn't improved your coordination Merlin'

'It hasn't improved your manners either I dare say' Merlin quipped as he gratefully pulled the cloak around his narrow frame. He stooped back to the hearth.

Before long, Merlin had the fire roaring. As Arthur sat fortifying himself with a goblet of wine, Merlin sat on his haunches, warming his hands by the fire. 'It's not my fault you know. The pigeons. Mort threw an ice ball at me.'

Arthur smiled 'Yes, yes, clearly the decorated knight of Camelot is responsible for the world's clumsiest servant slipping for what must be the hundredth time…'

'Yup.' Merlin looked over his shoulder at the prince looking like an enchanted bat…nothing but ears sticking out of a coffee-brown cloak.

'Of course. Nonetheless, that was quite the day!' In what he considered a particularly philanthropic gesture Arthur added, 'Merlin, why don't you call it a night early? I'm going to be asleep by the time I'm done this cup!'

'You're sure sire?' Merlin asked, he had actually wanted to sit by the fire a few minutes more.

'Of course I'm sure, you're soaked, go home!'

'Thanks then, goodnight.' Merlin headed for the door.

'Night Merlin.' Just as Merlin made it out of sight, Arthur remembered…'Oh, Merlin?'

Merlin's head poked around the corner 'Sire?'

'Can you stop at the kennel and make sure the hounds are covered? It's bloody freezing.'

'Of course, goodnight' he disappeared around the bend with a bob of his head.

'Wait! Merlin?'

Merlin poked his head around the corner yet again 'Yes…' he spoke with a 'hurry up you sod' tone that only he seemed to get away with.

Arthur made a twirling hand gesture Merlin didn't understand 'What?'

'My cloak Merlin?'

'Right, sorry.' Fully back in the room, Merlin took off the cloak hesitantly, missing its warmth before he even got it onto the peg it came from, with several others. Then he was off.

'Oh, Merlin…'

'What?!' Merlin turned back yet again with a smart comment on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur was smiling "_Goodnight_ Merlin.'

Merlin stood, dripping wet, hair askew, looking even less substantial than usual with his clothes plastered to him. He was instantly transformed as his trademark smile lit his features. As always, it was true, wide and warm, reaching his eyes…he could never stay annoyed with Arthur. 'Goodnight Arthur.'


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

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As morning rose in Camelot, Arthur woke to knocking at his door.

Blinking blearily, he called 'Come.' While slowly dragging his tousled self out from under the covers, warmly clothed against the cold night, Arthur muttered 'I'm impressed Merlin, I really thought you would never learn to knock…'

'Sire?'

'Gwen! I thought you were Merlin…' Arthur stole a quick glance down to confirm that he was, in fact, decent. Thank the gods for small favours! He wasn't sure what to say next, Gwen's appearance in his door having been totally unexpected.

Gwen didn't seem to know what she was there for either, standing in the threshold and wringing her hands.

'Gwen? What is it, did Morgana send you?' Arthur prompted.

'Sire. I'm sorry, I wouldn't ask but…' Gwen started, looking very uncomfortable.

Her nerves seemed contagious and the beginning of worry nipped at the edge of Arthur's thought 'What, please…is something wrong?'

'Wood!' she blurted out, wringing her hands even more forcefully.

Arthur now looked even more confused, his expression would have been almost funny in another circumstance.

'I'm sorry sire, Gaius sent me. To ask you. Could Gaius please borrow—or rather have I guess—some wood? For the fire.' More hand wringing.

'Yes, of course' Arthur was up and already moving towards the wood pile, wondering silently to himself what on earth was going on. He also wondered how many other _princes_ would be fetching wood—from his own stock—for the maid. No matter.

Gwen rushed forward and gratefully took the wood with a bow of her head. Just as quickly she turned and made for the door. She paused mid-stride…she seemed to have more to tell…

'Gwen?'

'Oh' she moaned, 'It's Merlin sire!'

Such a short statement. It's Merlin. Yet Arthur was suddenly on full alert, hadn't part of his mind hinted at trouble as soon as Gwen appeared at the door in Merlin's stead? The words, rapid fire, were out before he could consider them 'What about Merlin?'

'What did the clumsy oaf do this time?' he tossed in, not wanting to seem too concerned.

Gwen turned quickly to face the prince, worry now clear on her face 'Oh sire' she began rambling…'Gaius said Merlin was soaked to the skin, and he didn't say anything. How could Gaius have known?' She clutched the kindling in her arms closer 'They haven't had a fire for days and their room was so cold. Even this morning and…' Her pitch was rising.

'Guinevere!' Arthur interrupted.

'Sire?'

'Please, calm down and tell me exactly what has happened.' Although Arthur's voice was calm, the speed at which he was rapidly throwing on his outer clothes betrayed his anxiety.

'I'm sorry sire.' Gwen took a breath and began again 'Merlin…well.' She started yet again 'Gaius fears the Merlin may have pneumonia…that he may have caught his death of the cold! They need this…I must be off.'

Arthur, who had been bent over pulling on his boot, snapped upright. The winters in Camelot could be harsh. He'd seen men die from pneumonia—so named by the ancients—before. Arthur's mind was spinning a mile a minute as he tossed his cape over his shoulders. What is the name of the gods had happened? Yes they'd been out in the cold and wet, but Arthur was no worse for the wear. It certainly wasn't that bad yet! But…his mind crouched; ready to pounce on the smallest grain of blame…he'd sent Merlin to check the dogs. Then, if he understood Gwen right, Merlin had gone home wet to the skin. Without a fire? That didn't add up.

A moment later, Arthur grabbed another armload of firewood and stalked after Gwen. It wouldn't do to be seen running about.

As Arthur reached Gaius' apartments, he was struck by the cold. The inside was no warmer than the outdoors. Gwen was building a fire in the long-cold hearth.

'Gwen?'

'Sire!' she croaked, clearly shocked to see the crown prince of Camelot standing in the door with an armload of wood. She made to get up and take it from him.

'I'm fine' he gestured with his elbow for her to continue with the fire as he stacked the wood. What a cold, dark, miserable little home he realized.

'Gaius is gone for water, he will be right back'

'It's freezing in here! Why was there no fire!?' Arthur demanded.

'Sire? I'm sorry…' Gwen looked at him sheepishly, 'I'm sure I do not know.'

After depositing the wood, Arthur looked about, feeling more than a little out of place and unsure of what to do next.

'He is in his room sire.' Gwen gently prompted.

Arthur nodded and called out as he walked towards the dark, open doorway, 'Merlin?'

In a few short steps Arthur found himself at Merlin's bedside. If he'd thought himself uncomfortable before, he was positively awkward now.

The room was bloody freezing—worse even than the common room! Merlin was curled tightly on his side, a thin blanket pulled to his chin. Another small, patched and bare blanket covered Merlin's feet. He assumed it belonged to Gaius.

Arthur blinked…Merlin, what little he could see, looked terrible! He was still as death; his eyes were closed, sunken, and dark. Merlin's face and hands were positively white with cold. His nails and lips were tinged a faint, frightening, blue.

For one horrible moment, Arthur thought perhaps Merlin was already gone, dead in his sleep. He shook the thought away violently—surprised at the depth of his own emotion.

'Merlin?' Arthur crouched by the bed.

Merlin twitched, a whole-body spasm, which jolted Arthur. With the twitch came a harsh and painful intake of breath. Arthur wondered for a moment if Merlin had even been breathing when he came in. His mind once again ventured into dangerous territory—since when had he become so attached to this manservant?!! That didn't matter right now, he'd think on it later.

'Merlin, its Arthur.'

Merlin's eyes cracked open. 'Arthur?'

'Yes. What were you thinking, getting into bed wet—without so much as a fire?' his voice raised—either angry or afraid, not even Arthur knew yet.

Another rasping gasp came from the tiny scrap of a man on the bed. Gods, that sounded terrible to Arthur—he knew that a deep cold, one that had worked its way into the lungs, could easily be the death of a man.

Merlin's eyes were closed again; he just hadn't the energy to keep them open.

'Merlin!' Another twitch and gasp. This time Merlin's gasp was followed by a cough, cut short by the stab of agony it brought on. Merlin's features screwed up in pain and he curled even tighter. Arthur didn't know what to do, hand hovering over his friend. As the pain passed Arthur drew his hand back and Merlin squeaked out a pitiful 'ow.'

Arthur was quickly progressing from the land of anger, passed worry, right into fear. 'Merlin!' Arthur's voice came out angry—why wouldn't it? He had actually never been really afraid for someone before, but he was quite comfortable with angry.

'Sorry 'm lord…' was Merlin's mumbled reply.

'Well you ought to be!' Then Arthur softened, dragging his hand through his hair in frustration Arthur lectured 'Going to bed without a fire, really Merlin, you should know better.'

As if on cue, Merlin began to cough again, a deep hard sound and Gaius appeared in the doorway.

'Sire.'

Arthur stood, afraid for his friend and glad to have someone to direct his anger towards. Although still rumpled from sleep and worry, he looked every bit the king he would someday be. 'Gaius. Can you tell me why my servant—your ward—is half frozen? No fire? No wood? A blanket I wouldn't cover my dogs with?!'

Guilt flashed across Gaius' face—and something more—something that made Arthur cringe, thinking that perhaps he didn't want to hear the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the reviews!

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Chapter 3

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'Gaius. Can you tell me why my servant—your ward—is half frozen? No fire? No wood? A blanket I wouldn't cover my dogs with?!'

Guilt flashed across Gaius' face—and something more—something that made Arthur cringe, thinking that perhaps he didn't want to hear the answer.

.

.

.

Rather than answer the prince directly, Gaius tried to communicate with his eyes that Merlin would need to be cared for before anything else. Gaius started into the room, as wary as if he was approaching a wounded baby bear with the mother bear standing close by.

'Please sire, we must move him closer to the fire.'

Arthur growled out his reply, 'Move, I'll do it!'

Gaius bowed out of the room and set about moving his bed up to the hearth.

Arthur crouched back down by the bed. He was struck again by how truly terrible Merlin looked. An awful contrast to the sunny smile he's gifted Arthur with last night. He awkwardly put a hand to Merlin's shoulder 'Merlin, can you get up? The fire is going.'

Merlin cracked his eyes open again and through a hacking cough told Arthur 'You go ahead Arthur; I'll be there in a moment.'

Not bloody likely. Arthur carefully schooled his features—don't look worried, don't look too concerned. He complained with mock annoyance 'Oh Merlin, you idiot'. He needn't have bothered…Merlin seemed to be out again. With a quick glance around—feeling as thought the walls were watching his every un-princely move—Arthur carefully picked up his friend…he'd hauled Merlin about before. Once when they'd drank too much at the spring festival, another time when the oaf twisted his ankle. And the day Merlin was poisoned. What a horrid fright _that_ had given Arthur. That said, he'd never carried Merlin like this before—under the knees and neck—and he somehow felt a bit foolish. Suddenly, Arthur was struck by how very light his friend was. This was new. Oh sure, Merlin had always been small—no work at all to lug about—but nothing like this.

Arthur's anger returned. In a few swift steps he was at the fire and turned angrily on Gaius again 'He's like a child in my arms—my armour weighs more!'

'Yes sire.'

With the fire dancing on his features, Arthur saw how unhealthy Merlin looked, all angles and tightly pulled skin. He place Merlin gently on the bed.

'Gaius, what is going on?' Arthur demanded.

Arthur was trying hard to reconcile his feelings and the rapid fire thoughts crossed his features like shadows. He cared deeply for Merlin—was coming quickly to realize that he may have never cared for someone quite like this. On the other hand, he was prince. To be king. He needed to be cold, efficient and logical. It was not a natural combination and he fooled no one with the attempt.

Gaius was obviously worried as well and set about tucking Merlin in with the thread-bare blankets Arthur had scooped up with his servant. Gaius spoke, first to Merlin, then, looking up over Merlin, he addressed the prince.

'Oh Merlin, you silly, dear, boy.'

'I was sleeping already when Merlin came home last night. I had no idea he had gone to bed wet and cold. When I woke this morning, I could hardly rouse him. That is when I sent dear Gwen for wood.' Gaius' features were like granite 'I fear the worst sire.'

For a moment Arthur sounded like the peevish child he'd been only a few years ago 'It's only a cold! Once he warms up he will be fine!'

In his usual measured tone, Gaius said only 'Perhaps sire.'

Arthur spent a second wrestling with his features again—why couldn't he focus?! Back into prince mode, Arthur's voice was cold 'Now tell, me, why was there no wood for your fire, _physician_?'

Gaius looked at his hands but did not answer. Both men stood on either side of the bed.

'Gaius! You _will_ answer me.'

Quiet now, Gaius briefly glanced up 'I did not buy any sire.'

'You did not buy any?' incredulous.

'No sire.'

'Why on earth not! Your foolishness may have cost Merlin his…' Arthur's voice ground to a halt. He turned away and began pacing, unwilling to continue that thought to its conclusion. 'Merlin is sick!'

'I was saving my coin sire.' Gaius continued, still looking at his gnarled hands. He knew the prince's next question and knew the answer would sting them both. Gaius pondered briefly whether to try and shield the young prince but knew that Arthur had much more to learn about his responsibilities than Gaius had thought.

'Saving for what exactly?!' Angrily '_What_ was more important?!'

'A cloak sire.' Arthur turned and stared at him blankly. Gaius finally looked up at Arthur 'One fortnight and I would have been able to buy Merlin a cloak. Maybe even a blanket…'

'A cloak.' The words fell flat from Arthur's lips.

'A cloak.' Gaius nodded.

'Merlin doesn't have a cloak?'

'No sire…' as if by means of explanation Gaius went on 'he is but a mere servant sire…'

Arthur's voice was steel and fire overtook the fatigue that had been in his eyes; for a moment Gaius caught sight of the cruel and hard man Arthur could become without Merlin 'Merlin. Is. Not. A. _Mere_. Servant!' Arthur's glance touched on Merlin, who hadn't stirred despite the ruckus. In a marginally lower tone, 'he is not a _mere_ anything, Merlin is a good man.'

'I meant no disrespect Arthur. Merlin is like my son.' Gaius' voice cracked slightly 'I love and cherish the boy. I think you know that.'

Energy spent, Arthur deflated a bit 'Contrary to what the poets would have us believe Gaius, love will not keep a man warm.'

'No sire.' Then, 'The tea is ready.'

As Gaius turned away, Arthur noticed that Gwen was still in the room. She quickly mumbled about going to find some more wood and scampered for the door.

Absent-mindedly Arthur called after her, 'Take it from my rooms.'

Gwen looked back, nodded and turned again to leave 'Oh, and Gwen?' Arthur cleared his throat, embarrassed, 'Bring another of my cloaks, the red one if you will.'

As Gaius went to Merlin, trying to rouse him for tea, Arthur noticed how bony the old man has become as well. A pang of guilt grabbed at his soul like a burr.

'Here, let me help.' Arthur's voice was still impatient and commanding, but the worry was seeping through again. 'It looks like you've both been skimping on meals as well as wood.'

'Truthfully, we have sire and I'm so sorry for that. I do believe his weakened state is owing to poor nutrition.' Gaius' voice was heavy with honest regret. 'No matter how I prepared it, the ration was never really enough for both of us. Although Merlin never complained—not once.' He added quickly.

Arthur sat on the edge of the little bed and propped Merlin to sitting. With a bit of spilling and choking, Gaius got some tea into Merlin although he barely reached consciousness, batting Gaius' hand away feebly.

'He's still very cold Gaius' Arthur noted before lowering Merlin back onto the pillow—Arthur could feel him shivering. As if to answer, Merlin began to cough anew—harsh and wet and worse than before.

Gaius motioned for Arthur to put him down before kneeling beside the bed. 'Merlin, can you hear me?'

This time Merlin did not answer at all, Gaius spoke loudly and gently shook Merlin by the shoulder 'Merlin?' Again, no answer. Instead Merlin began to shudder like a leaf in the wind.

Arthur was suddenly and completely uncomfortable with his emotions…duelling guilt and worry. How in hades had he not known that Merlin didn't have a cloak? That he was dreadfully underfed even as he brought Arthur three meals a day? Arthur stood abruptly.

'I will be back later.'


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

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Arthur stormed into his apartments. Not knowing _what_ he was feeling or _what_ he was supposed to be doing. All he knew for sure was that he absolutely loathed being so inadequate. He would have loved nothing more than to be able to throw some evildoer into the dungeon or turn a horse-thief over to his father.

He found Gwen stacking wood into a large basket, his best red cloak was folded neatly and ready to go. Arthur swallowed hard and looked away—a great lot of use the cloak would be now.

If Gwen hadn't been so tired, and upset—worried not only for her good friend Merlin but for Gaius as well—she may never have spoken out. But she was and she did.

'You ought not to have been so angry with Gaius.'

Arthur was flabbergasted. Not only was he being dressed down by a handmaiden, but she seemed utterly unaware of what Gaius' negligence could lead to, of how serious the situation was! 'But Merlin is his ward—and now he is ill!'

Continuing to focus her gaze intently on the wood pile she said 'But Merlin is _your_ servant sire.'

For a moment Arthur wasn't able to follow Gwen's logic. Of course Merlin was his servant. What did that have to do with anything? Had he missed something?

Then, like tumblers falling into place Arthur understood. _His _servant. _His_ responsibility.

He looked so upset by his realization that Gwen suddenly realized who she was talking to and how brash she had been 'I'm so sorry sire! I should not have spoken so!' She was quickly backing out of the room, cloak forgotten. Head bobbing the whole way.

'Wait!' Arthur called. She froze. In a slow and dangerous tone he asked 'Gwen...where do you get your firewood?'

Gods, she did not want to answer him! 'Sire, you're upset, I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn, I'll take my leave…'

'You will not! You will answer me _this_ moment or I'll have you thrown in the dungeon!' Arthur bellowed, clearly more angry with the situation than with poor Gwen.

She blanched but answered immediately and obediently 'The lady Morgana sire…'

'What?'

'My firewood sire, the lady has it brought to my home weekly sire.'

Arthur sat heavily. No. Please let this be some sort of misunderstanding…

In a near-whisper and unable to meet her eyes Arthur asked 'and your cloak…'

She nodded meekly 'an extra of the lady's m'lord'

Arthur ran his hand roughly through his hair.

'What else?' wearily, all the anger was gone from his voice.

Gwen would have given everything she owned to be anywhere else. But Arthur needed to hear it and Merlin—if he lived—would need Arthur to know. 'My home, most clothing. And meals sire. The king has deeded me my father's home, as you know. And the lady, I'm sorry, the lady takes responsibility for my meals.'

'Why?' he asked, almost to himself.

Now it was Gwen's turn to seem genuinely confused. Could it be that Arthur really didn't know anything of how things were done? It was possible, she realized. Usually the queen was in charge of this part of a young royal's education.

There was no way to get around it…'We're servants sire, not slaves.'

Arthur looked as though he's been thrown from his horse. A small part of his mind was starting to remember, his father had a fellow who looked after the king's servants. He must have taken care of Arthur's as well? Until when? Well, until Merlin obviously. Now that he thought about it, Merlin was the first in Arthur's employ as an adult. Arthur was responsible for Merlin—was Merlin's _master_.

His mind spun unpleasantly. Merlin had been doing Arthur's bidding and chores all this time and had not been paid? Anything? And worse, Arthur knew he had treated Merlin very badly at times.

He groaned, realizing how he'd treated Gaius. Merlin and Gaius had tried to make do with nothing more than Gaius' individual rations. Gaius who had gone without food and fire. Gaius who had opened his home and treated Merlin one thousand times better than the prince had. Gaius who had not taken the opportunity to throw it back at Arthur as he had blustered about the physician's home.

His mind screamed, hoarse even in his own head… he hadn't known! Hadn't realized! He was not to blame!

Arthur finally looked blearily up from his hands, where he'd wrung the life out of his gloves. His eyes were red and he was confused for a moment to find himself alone in his room. Gwen had gone; the wood and cloak presumably gone with her.

He rose and with an unsteady hand drew himself a cup of wine. Arthur sat back again, heavily. The tray before him was littered with bits of bread, cheese, and apples from breakfast before hunting yesterday. Food that Merlin had brought the prince each day—without ever being offered a scrap. Without ever taking any for himself. All the while, he was wasting away as he worked like a damn dog!

'Only last evening' Arthur thought to himself, 'I sat in this same spot, drinking the same wine and demanded that Merlin go out into the cold and make sure the bloody _hounds_ were warm enough.' Gods…the thought made his stomach roil. Then he remembered demanding his cloak back first—one of _four_ extras! How could he have been so brainless!?

Worse even than these thoughts was Arthur's bright and clear memory of Merlin turning back happy and trusting and flashing Arthur with his brilliant smile…'Goodnight Arthur.' Not one ounce of malice not one query or request as he marched humbly into the cold—knowing full well he would be going home to no food, no warmth. Again—as he must have nearly every night. If only he'd stayed by the fire a bit longer. If only he'd asked to keep the cloak. If only he wasn't already so weak. If only if only if only. If only _I_ wasn't such an absolutely self-absorbed prat!!

Arthur slammed down his goblet and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to cry. Damn them. Damn himself for his avarice, damn Merlin for saying nothing. For being a bloody martyr. Damn himself for caring so.

.

.

.

Whether he wanted to or not, Arthur had appearances to keep up. He attended to the knights and had taken several petitions from villagers. His heart most certainly wasn't in it and his mind was elsewhere. Later in the day Arthur found himself finally leaving the king's chambers, having begged off early. Whether to check on Merlin or to drown his guilt in front of his own fire he hadn't decided.

In seemingly slow motion he passed the kennels and it's the image was burned into his mind. A skiff of snow remained in the shady spots, the hounds barked and snapped at each other as they were thrown bones, each was wearing a red cover with the Pendragon crest.

Better off than Merlin by any measure that counts. Another stab of angst.

As Arthur glanced towards Gaius' chambers, fear clutched his heart, battling the angst that had so recently been lodged there. Gaius was sitting on a short stone wall apart from the entrance, head down, staring into his boney hands. Arthur could think of nothing that would keep Gaius away from tending Merlin.

Before he had time for additional thought Arthur charged past Gaius, his frightened voice carrying into the physician's quarters 'Merlin! Merlin? Where is he?!' alarm writ large on his face.

Gwen looked up, teary, from Merlin's still form—she'd been dabbing blood from his lips. Arthur stopped. His heart seemed to pause, his breath held…

It took every ounce of mettle Arthur had just to open his mouth 'Is he…' He could say no more, the words stopped by the lump that had risen in his throat. Arthur's eyes begged; his hand on the pommel of his sword as if he could somehow protect them all.

'He is resting sire.'

A measure of relief crossed Arthur's features and he felt himself stagger, quickly catching himself.

'But…Gaius is no longer able to wake him m' lord.' Gwen stated, still stinging from their earlier encounter.

Merlin was coughing pitifully, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth before being gently wiped away by Gwen's stained rag. He looked even more haggard. Arthur quickly stepped up to the bed looking completely at a loss for what to do. He bent to Merlin, before he realized what he was doing, Arthur had uncharacteristically smoothed back a shock of that scruffy dark hair. Gwen glanced away. It seemed a moment that demanded privacy.

'Merlin?' Arthur spoke gently 'It's Arthur, can you hear me?' Nothing. Arthur had seen this before, the coughing, the pain, the unconsciousness. The blood. He had to know for sure and carefully laid his ear to Merlin's frail chest. Please.

Pain crossed his features as he heard the tell-tale crackling sounds. Merlin did have pneumonia—and it had the upper hand. His lungs were filling with fluid. This is why Gaius was in the square, there was nothing more that he could do besides impart comfort.

After clearing his throat, not trusting himself to speak at first, Arthur muttered 'Gwen, you're exhausted…take your rest. Please…' Arthur sat on the chair Gaius had likely vacated, eyes never leaving his friend's pale face.

With a nod Gwen took her leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alrighty, quick set of author's notes****…**

~This is the second-last chapter, I will finish up on Monday (sorry, I'm gone to Toronto for U2!)

~It's angsty.

~To up the angst, I suggest reading with some appropriate and depressing music in the background. 'A Dying Sailor to his Shipmates' by Bono is perfect; everything else feels too modern  You can find it on youtube.

~Thank you for your reviews. More is more!

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Chapter 5

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As soon as Gwen was out of earshot Arthur spoke low, in his friend's ear 'Merlin, you must fight this.' His voice caught—unfamiliar with this new-found weakness. 'I…' he stopped, unsure, and then soldiered on. 'I…please Merlin. I promise I will be less of a prat. You can run _me_ through the forest without a cloak. In the dead of winter!' With a smile he tried to tease 'Then I'll allow you to draw me a hot bath.'

Arthur was worried sick and very, very tired; his chuckle was on the blade's edge between humour and tears. He shook his head, trying to stave them off. He'd never had a brother—or even any true friends. Just this ridiculous and wonderful, boy. Merlin's only response was another wet cough. With his thumb, Arthur swiped a bead of blood from the corner of Merlin's dry lips, unconsciously rubbing Merlin's life between his thumb and finger.

Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's chest, still heaving with tight, constricted, coughs. He was willing Merlin to be strong. This was so damn unfair, so utterly _wrong_! Just as Arthur's features began to crumple and his breath to catch, Gaius entered. Arthur quickly swiped a hand across his face, swallowed hard, and sat upright.

'How is he?' Gaius inquired. How ironic—here was the court physician, asking the crown prince of Camelot, about the health of a lowly servant.

'Cracklings.' Arthur motioned with his chin towards Merlin 'I heard the cracklings.'

Gaius nodded sadly and sat. 'He may yet overcome this…'

Arthur did not want to have this conversation. The bit where Gaius would patiently and gently explain how slim Merlin's chances were. Gods forbid one more gentle and caring word and Arthur thought he might just find himself howling and snivelling like a lost child. He blurted 'Forgive me Gaius, for how I spoke to you earlier…'

'Sire!'

'No, I had no right to be angry with you. I am sorry.'

Gaius knew all about Gwen and Arthur's confrontation. The prince was likely feeling every bit as dreadful as he looked. As kindly as he could, Gaius spoke 'Merlin would not want you to blame yourself for his illness sire.'

'Yes, well, the blame is mine to abide—regardless.' Tears pricked the backs of his eyes and were forced away with furious blinks.

They sat quietly for a time; the only sound from Merlin's choking coughs. There was no mistaking the fact that his breaths—gasps really—were becoming perceptibly shorter and further between. In a rare moment that caused Gaius to sadly smile, his heart breaking for the boys, Arthur laid his ear back to Merlin's chest. Half listening, half hugging Merlin with one arm.

With his head still on his friend's chest Arthur's voice was muffled 'He's getting worse Gaius.'

'Yes.'

Arthur sat up, sounding angry but clearly at a loss he asked 'What can I do?! I am of no use at all!'

'Sire, please.' Calming, 'You are here—that is enough.' Damn Gaius, each kind word and concerned look burned Arthur like a poker, goading him closer and closer to things he did not want to face. Fear…hope…guilt…regret…_tenderness_. Tenderness, for a blasted servant! He was soft as a bloody maiden!

'Arthur.' Gaius touched his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. 'Your being here is enough.'

'No. It is not.'

After a time Gaius spoke again. 'When you were ill sire, from the bite of the Questing Beast, Merlin was beside himself...' Arthur simply nodded—understanding in a way he would not have only yesterday. 'He told me then that you were his friend. I think he would want you to know that.'

The dam cracked and Arthur's features crumbled. He choked back a sob and put his hand over his mouth. 'Merlin is my friend as well.'

Gaius place a hand on Arthur's back, 'He would have considered that the highest honour in the world my lord.'

'Ha!' Arthur angrily coughed out 'More like a bloody death sentence!'

'Gaius, Merlin has saved my life—probably more times than I know—sacrificed himself without question, without price, and has been my one true friend! Me? Well, _I_ have left no opportunity go by to poke fun at him, call him names, and treat him poorly. Do you know what my last words were to him this morning?' Arthur looked up with tortured eyes. 'When he couldn't rise and I had to bring him to the fire? The last time we spoke while he could still hear me?? Do you!?' Arthur's voice was rising 'Merlin, you idiot! Too sick to even open his eyes and that's what I say. Merlin, you idiot. What kind of a master, prince, or friend says that?!'

Arthur was trying so hard to be a man, to control his emotions but he could not and took a sob-laced breath. 'Muck my horses Merlin, wash my shorts _Merlin_, draw my bath _Merlin_, polish my armour, fetch my breakfast…' Arthur was gasping and yelling now 'Into the stocks _Merlin_, you're an oaf _Merlin_, jacket my bloody _dogs_ Merlin…then go home…lie down…and _die_ Merlin!!'

'Sire, please…' Arthur's rage was frightening. 'I can tell you beyond any doubt that Merlin loved you very much.' Gaius' use of the past tense was not lost on either man. As Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, Gaius held up a hand and spoke over him 'There is nothing in this life Merlin would have rather done than serve you well. And he would have willingly died to do so.'

With this, Arthur slumped, unable to sustain his brief bout of anger. Looking wilted, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, Arthur nodded 'and so he may have done.'

Gaius felt awful for the prince. He was barely more than a child himself, no mother, no siblings, no true companions—except the sweet wizard who somehow wormed his way into that untouched heart.

As time passed, the two men seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. Arthur was clearly staying.

They took turns tending the fire and soothing their charge. By the time the sun began its rapid late-autumn decent, Merlin had a high fever. For hours he alternated between bouts of fevered thrashing, choking on his own blood, and shaking, shuddering chills that, for some reason, scared Arthur the most. At times he put a hand on Merlin's chest, hoping to perhaps help still the shaking.

By late evening, Merlin lay flat on his back as was the customary treatment at this point. He was becoming more and more quiet. The coughing had stopped, as had any thrashing or shaking, and now his breath was coming in infrequent little gasps, each a self-contained struggle.

The lady Morgana stopped in to whisper words of encouragement to Merlin and to bring the men a meal, which both picked at without appetite.

Gaius excused himself for a moment, taking the untouched plates with him. 'Please Merlin…' Arthur begged 'you mustn't…leave me yet.' He glanced up at the ceiling, gathering himself with a sniff, furiously blinking away the burning salt. 'We need a chance to be proper friends you and I. Well, mostly, I need a chance—you've already been the best and truest friend I have ever had.' Arthur jammed one hand into his eyes, willing himself to be strong.

Upon his return, Gaius listened to Merlin's lungs then sat wearily down. Arthur looked up; a tiny glint of hope in his eye, Gaius simply gave a small shake of his head.

The men listened, hanging on each breath.

Until there was no more.

After several counts, not knowing exactly what was missing, Arthur bolted to his feet, hands on each side of Merlin's face 'Merlin! Breathe!' Nothing. Desperately now. 'Merlin?' He made room for Gaius who quickly bent to Merlin's chest. Seconds ticked by. Gaius closed his eyes, pain written on his face.

'The boy breathes no more, my lord. His heart slows. Where there is no breath, there is no life.' Arthur's face was blank, uncomprehending, 'I'm sorry Arthur; it is over.'

'No…but…no! Merlin?' Arthur's faced pinched in pain as though he'd been run through. Truly, it felt so. Teeth clamped and bared in a grimace, the tears he'd been holding at bay came, all at once. He sat heavily on the death bed. Without hesitation, Arthur reached out and wrapped his arms around Merlin's rail-thin back, pulling Merlin close to his chest. Was he really to never to see that goofy, sunny grin again? Merlin's arms dangled uselessly and his head lolled back like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Arthur gently cupped the nape of Merlin's damp neck 'Please Merlin, oh please…I'm sorry!' The prince brought Merlin's head up carefully, gently, until their foreheads touched. He drew back and then Arthur touched his lips to Merlin's pale forehead before falling into forlorn, choking, sobs he never would have thought himself capable of. Words were beyond him. Arthur tucked Merlin into his arms, the master's chin resting on the damp and unruly hair of his beloved servant and friend. Head bent, shoulders shaking.


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

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Arthur tucked Merlin into his arms, the master's chin resting on the damp and unruly hair of his beloved servant and friend. Head bent, shoulders shaking.

Gaius would never completely understand what exactly transpired next. Was magic involved? Had the prince's jostling had loosened Merlin's lungs at just the right moment? Or had hearing his master's tears had been enough to drag Merlin back from the other side? Just when it seemed all hope was lost, Merlin took another ragged little breath…

Arthur slowly looked at Merlin then to Gaius fearing that his mind and ears had played a cruel trick on him.

'Gaius?'

When he saw that Gaius too had heard Merlin's gasp, hope dawned on his face. As Gaius examined Merlin, still in Arthur's arms, Arthur hastily wiped his sleeve across his eyes and nose. With a loud sniff Arthur tried to re-gather his wits. With a smile Gaius pronounced that Merlin was breathing again! He was still on very thin ice, but breathing was certainly better than not! An aftershock, half sob, half laugh, bubbled forth from Arthur.

He was not embarrassed in the least.

For hours Arthur held Merlin upright, urging each little breath as Gaius puttered and applied his treatments anew. Very un-princely, Arthur knew. Through the night the Merlin's breaths became longer. He began coughing and shuddering fit to break. Although this frightened Arthur, Gaius said, no, the coughing was a good sign.

By morning Arthur was asleep in a chair, drooped and tousled looking. Gaius was lying in Merlin's room. For his part, Merlin—mercifully breathing—lay propped high on pillows, tucked in, and covered loosely in Arthur's best red cloak.

.

.

.

Arthur would go on to be king of Camelot and Merlin to be his friend and advisor. As a king, he would witness death, destruction, war, and pestilence. He would feel terror and despair, love, loss, guilt, and grief. However, never would Arthur suffer as he did on that longest of days. That brief moment when he had held Merlin, unbreathing, and knew he'd lost the most rare and precious person he'd ever known—that Merlin had suffered and died and it had been Arthur's fault—was the worst of his life. The memory did haunt him, waking him from nightmares well into old age.

None but Arthur knew the meaning behind the script he had inscribed on his forearm one year later, on the anniversary of what Arthur considered his second chance.

~for the want of a nail~

~the shoe was lost~

~for the want of a shoe~

~the horse was lost~

~for the want of a horse~

~the rider was lost~

Arthur never made that mistake again.


End file.
